Glowing C Productions
by Cinpii
Summary: [Ryoma x Sakuno. Non yaoi.] Ryoma watches Sakuno practice and gets …distracted. Alternate ending to Drabble 02 posted. Rating increased for perverted themes.
1. Drabble 01: Cute Girls with Wobbly Hips

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis was created by Konomi Takeshi. Not me. Please don't sue.

**AN:** Glowing Crotch Productions (GCP) is a tribute to Touga's hilarious doujin, "Why Ryoma Refuses to Teach Sakuno Tennis". Go to the homepage in my bio and navigate to the doujin page to see exactly what I mean. GCP is meant to be a series of drabbles inspired from her works. If you want more, be sure to cheer her on.

Comments and criticisms welcome. Enjoy.

**Glowing Crotch Productions **

By Cinpii

**Drabble 01: Cute Girls with Wobbly Hips**

--sound effect--

* * *

--pok--

Another Sunday shot to hell, Echizen Ryoma thought to himself as he sat on the bench situated behind one of the park's practice walls. It was early morning, and the rising sun was hiding behind a cropping of trees dotting the horizon.

--pok--

Somehow, he'd been suckered to supervise Wobbly Hips. Again. Why him, the tennis prodigy grumped as he propped his chin in one hand and aimed a glower at her sub par returns.

--pok--

Sheesh. Just because he didn't have anything planned on Sunday meant that he wanted to spend it watching _her_. He couldn't sleep in with Karupin, oh no, his old man had roused him up and shoved him into the car. He didn't even get any manju this time, Ryoma harrumphed to himself. He was doing this for free. It sucked. _She'd better have a bento waiting for me_, the boy grumbled silently.

--pok--

With a frown, he grudgingly evaluated her form, peering at her from under the brim of his cap. Since he was here, he might as well see if he could give her some pointers. Maybe then she'd get better and his old man would stop harassing him.

--pok--

Her posture was ok, but the swing was a little sharp, the footing a bit awkward. Her follow-through needed work. He'd have to teach her that later. But as for now, Ryoma reasoned to himself, let her warm up a little and get a feel for it. She'd get into a natural rhythm eventually, and that'd make his job a lot easier.

--pok--

Five minutes later and she was still pokking away. Ryoma stifled a yawn. This was boring.

--pok--

Another five minutes, another yawn. Ryoma shifted in his seat. His butt was getting sore.

--pok--

15 minutes now. She'd been at it for 15 minutes. He was mildly impressed that she could actually keep the pace going. She _was_ improving.

--pok--

The sun was peaking overhead now, and the rays gleamed upon her body. Ryoma's eyes trailed her movements, noting sun-enhanced details that he would have never noticed before.

--pok--

A tiny bead of sweat trailed down her temple.

--pok--

Silly pigtails danced around her torso with every stroke, catching the rays and glinting off reddish-gold highlights.

--pok--

She pivoted for a swing and the short skirt swished, grazing her slim thighs.

--pok--

Her footwork was getting better, he thought, nodding his head in approval.

--pok--

'haa..' she breathed, her mouth open as she returned the ball.

--pok--

Ryoma's eyes returned to her profile.

'haa…' she breathed again, returning a backhand this time.

He cocked his head at a higher angle to look at her better.

'haa…'

She looked focused. Determined. It was a first for him, seeing this side of Wobbly Hips. She was normally so clumsy.

'haa…'

Ryoma raised a brow. Her face was glowing with exertion, cheeks flushed, eyes steady and serious.

'haa…'

Looking at her this way, he had never noticed before but…

'haa…'

…she was actually kinda cute.

'haa…'

His ears no longer registered the steady thumps of the ball, just the quiet sound of her breathing.

'haa…'

Her hair was too long, but pigtails were nice. His mom used to wear her hair in a braid.

'haa…'

Her features were small and delicate. She was a petite girl. Maybe that was why her grip was so bad. Her hand was too small for the racket.

'haa…'

If he built up her grip strength, that might help, he mused.

'haa…'

And she _was_ kinda cute. Maybe coaching her wouldn't be so bad.

'haa…'

Cat-shaped eyes returned to her parted mouth again.

'haa…'

Her lips looked soft.

'haa…'

He wondered if they felt soft too.

'haa…'

"Ryoma-kun! Watch out!!!"

--POW--

It barreled at him full throttle, too swift for even his honed senses to evade. Without mercy it slammed into his chin, pitching him backwards and off the bench.

Had he not been distracted, he would have been able to avoid it. But he had, and now he was paying for his inattention. Ryoma's jaw throbbed incessantly, and it hurt almost as much as his wounded pride.

Distantly he could hear the girl freaking out.

"Ryoma-kun! Are you okay?"

Of course he wasn't okay. He had just been beamed in the chin by a wayward tennis ball. _Her_ wayward tennis ball. It hurt like hell.

The young prodigy lay sprawled in the grass, covering his visage with his hand, trying to quell the pain. The force of the impact dislodged his cap, and as he stared at it, one angry thought surfaced in his mind.

She wasn't cute at all!

**FIN**


	2. Drabble 02: Curse of the Wobbly Hips

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis was created by Konomi Takeshi. Not me. Please don't sue.

**AN:** Glowing Crotch Productions (GCP) is a tribute to Touga's hilarious RyoSaku doujins. Go to the homepage in my bio and navigate to the doujin page to see exactly what I mean. GCP is meant to be a series of drabbles inspired from her works. If you want more, be sure to cheer her on.

Comments and criticisms welcome. Enjoy.

**Glowing Crotch Productions **

By Cinpii

**Drabble 02: Curse of the Wobbly Hips **

Sunday mornings were Sakuno's favorite time of the week. While many disliked waking up early on the single day of rest they got, Ryuzaki Sakuno was different. She'd bound out of bed on Sundays with an eager smile to face the world. Though a cheerful girl by nature and a morning person as well, the main reason Sakuno looked forward to Sundays was because on those mornings, she received coveted one on one time with Echizen Ryoma, tennis prodigy.

Why he coached her was muddled and unclear, something about 'payback of long due favors' or some such having to do with her obachan and Ryoma's father. Sakuno didn't really understand as neither bothered to explain it to her, but it didn't matter. She would receive personal tennis lessons from Ryoma, and that was good enough for her.

With a smile, she braided her hair with extra care, smoothed down her pleated skirt, and went downstairs to grab a quick breakfast before their meet.

* * *

Ryoma didn't understand why he had to pay for his father's sins, but here he was anyways, getting ready to coach the clumsy, navigationally challenged girl once more. His stupid old man told him he couldn't get out of these Sunday obligations until Sakuno's tennis got better. Just when he was about to argue, Nanjiroh promised

_'If you can improve her tennis, I'll play you a serious game.'_

It would be just like that no good father of his to coerce him like that. Ryoma was no fool and could see the lure for what it was, but the promise of a serious game was too good to pass up. Granted, he'd have to perform a miracle to transform the coach's granddaughter, but since when did he run away from a challenge?

And it wasn't like he held anything against her anyway. She was an eager student, and though a tad on the klutzy side, he supposed she was alright. Maybe her hair was too long and her hips too wobbly, but he could have been stuck with worse.

The cat-eyed boy yawned as he sat down to tug on his sneakers. With a glance at the clock, he strolled out the door. He normally didn't care if he was prompt or tardy, but last time he had kept her waiting. His senpai-tachi had somehow found out and scolded him about it. Ryoma quickened his pace just a notch. If it would stop the nagging, then the slight effort would be worth it.

* * *

She was late.

He tapped his foot in impatience. He had jogged the last few blocks to get here on time, and the dratted girl was late. Ryoma frowned in displeasure. Five minutes, he told himself. He was only going to wait five minutes, and if she wasn't here by then, too bad.

* * *

Sakuno bit her lip as she wandered through the park. Distracted by a talkative passenger, she had taken the wrong stop off the bus, and had to enter the park through the far entrance.

Now she was lost. Reddish brown eyes scanned the area, searching for a cap-adorned boy. There wasn't another person in sight.

"Mou," Sakuno muttered, looking everywhere. Why did this park have to have so many trees?

* * *

It was ten minutes now.

Ryoma's face deadpanned. He stuck his hands in his pockets, the epitome of grumpy male.

Five more minutes he told himself. He'd only wait five more minutes.

* * *

Sakuno's face brightened when she rounded the path and saw him. With a trot, she came forward.

"Gomen, Ryoma-kun, I was—"

"Twenty laps," he interrupted without so much as a blink of an eye. He had waited twenty minutes for the chit, and he was going to punish her accordingly. One lap for every minute she kept him waiting. That would teach her to waste his time.

"Eh?"

Twenty laps? Twenty laps were how much the regulars were required to run everyday. But Sakuno was not a regular. Moreover, half of the boy's tennis team still had difficulty completing that many laps, especially the first years. Sakuno could understand that this was Ryoma's way of punishing her, but twenty was out and out sadistic.

Her mouth parted in dismay. She knew he had valid cause to be stern with her, but he was being a total ogre ordering twenty laps.

"B-but that's too much, Ryoma-kun…"

"You're slacking off, Ryuzaki. Now, hit it." Ryoma emphasized his demand by jerking his thumb in a no-nonsense gesture. If he was going to be bothered out of bed every Sunday morning to teach the girl, she had better exercise the valiance of punctuality.

Besides, running laps improved one's stamina, conditioned the muscles, and made one more aware of body movement. One had to coordinate one's limbs to run smoothly.

Boy, did she need help in that department – coordination. Why the girl sucked so bad at it boggled him. She was fine against the wall (when she wasn't smacking him upside the head with an errant tennis ball, Ryoma was still a little bitter about that), but when he was feeding her balls across the net, she was absolutely appalling. Her form, which was commendable, crumbled to pieces on the court. Her hips would wobble, her swing would be too stiff, and she'd trip all over the place.

Running would help. And the faster she'd improve in tennis, the sooner he'd have his Sundays all to himself again. Ryoma smiled at the pleasant thought.

In the meanwhile, he'd make the most out of his weekly suffering by nursing a cool can of Ponta. Drinking the cola while supervising the girl was always the highlight of their practice sessions for him. Ryoma was already fingering the coins tucked away in his pockets when she clasped her hands together in a pretty plea.

"Can I do ten instead?" Her smile was blinding.

Ryoma stood there for a second, just staring at her. What was he, a bargain basement? This wasn't negotiable. She had to be kidding.

Another second passed. She wasn't.

Ryoma tried to remain unfazed. His stoic façade remained in place, but his stance gave in. Damnit, this was unfair. Buchou would've issued 30 laps to any peon who dared to disagree. But no, this was Wobbly Hips. And damn him, but she was really cute. Especially when she begged like that.

He turned his head away so she wouldn't see how much the wretched words cost him. "Fine. 10 laps then." He couldn't believe he actually relented.

_You're too lenient on the girl, _his mind reprimanded his conscience.

_Shut up._

But it wasn't over. She was begging again, requesting meekly in that soft voice of hers.

"Um… W-would you run with me?" Her eyes were downcast, the tips of her index fingers tapping together in a display of nervous energy. "I-it's a little embarrassing by myself so…"

Ryoma's expression deadpanned. It was a good thing she wasn't looking. Great. Now she wanted _him_ to run laps too. With an inaudible sigh, Ryoma took off, carelessly tossing his reply over his shoulder.

"Can't be helped. C'mon." With his luck, she'd get lost again. At least this way he could keep an eye on her. Ryoma frowned in mild irritation. The Ponta would have to wait, he supposed.

The patter of footsteps caught up with him even though he had a head start. Not that catching up was difficult; Ryoma's pace was moderate and easy. He only raced through a twenty-lap marathon when the threat of Inui juice was on the line.

Hmm, maybe threatening Wobbly Hips with Inui juice would improve her tennis…

* * *

Sakuno beamed to herself, reveling in the moment. Although his face was set in a stern expression, he was being nice, running with her like this. It warmed her heart knowing that he did it for her. Sakuno's eyes closed for a moment as she smiled, soft and content.

_Ryoma-kun, I'm glad I get to do this with you._

Running along side him, the caress of the sun's rays on her skin, the refreshing cool breeze in her hair, buoyed up by pleasant thoughts of spending time with the boy she admired, Sakuno didn't see the uneven segment of concrete that jutted out and snagged her toe.

"Uwaaah!!!"

* * *

It happened so quickly. One second, she was running beside him, the next, she was swan diving chin first into the sidewalk. The rush of air that followed her descending passage blew up the back of her skirt. It was only a brief glimpse, but it was enough.

_Pink._

Wobbly Hip's panties were pink. A light blush blossomed over Ryoma's cheeks as his hormones reacted to the unexpected peepshow.

_Pink. _

Ryoma's body switched to autopilot as his brain became filled with unwholesome images.

_Pink._

He ran harder, trying to get away from the uncharacteristic thoughts.

_Pink._

His strides lengthened, covering more ground.

_Pink._

The scenery flashed by on either side of him, unseen, unappreciated.

_Pink._

With his head down and his eyes clenched tight, all the boy could see was images of Sakuno's pink, pink panties.

_Pink._

They were the pale carnation color too. A little swatch of material that covered her—

_Pink. _

That covered her—

_Pink. _

Her—

_Pink, pink— _BAM!

Ryoma collided into a street post. The thin, metallic sign vibrated from the harsh velocity of the impact, but was otherwise fine. Unfortunately, Ryoma could not claim the same.

Sitting on the cold, hard concrete, covering his abused face, one thought ran through his mind.

_Damnit! Was clumsiness contagious?_

**FIN**


	3. Drabble 03: The Color of Wobbly Hips

**Disclaimer:** Prince of Tennis was created by Konomi Takeshi. Not me. Please don't sue.

**Warning:** Perverted themes.

**AN:** Glowing Crotch Productions (GCP) is a tribute to Touga's hilarious RyoSaku doujins. Go to the homepage in my bio and navigate to the doujin page to see exactly what I mean. GCP is meant to be a series of drabbles inspired from her works. If you want more, be sure to cheer her on.

This drabble is a deviation of "Curse of the Wobbly Hips". Think of this as an alternate ending. Feedback is always appreciated. I would love to know which version you enjoyed more.

**Glowing Crotch Productions**

By Cinpii

**Drabble 03: The Color of Wobbly Hips**

Sunday mornings were Sakuno's favorite time of the week. While many of her classmates disliked waking up early on their only day free from school, Ryuzaki Sakuno was different. She'd bound out of bed on Sundays with a happy smile to face the world. Though a cheerful girl by nature and a morning person as well, the main reason Sakuno looked forward to Sundays was because on those mornings, she received coveted one on one time with Echizen Ryoma, tennis prodigy.

Why he coached her was muddled and unclear, something about payback of long due favors having to do with her grandma and Ryoma's father. Sakuno didn't really understand as neither bothered to explain it to her, but it didn't matter. She would receive personal tennis lessons from Ryoma, and that was good enough for her.

With a smile, she braided her hair with extra care, smoothed down her pleated skirt, and went downstairs to grab a quick breakfast before their meeting.

* * *

Ryoma didn't understand why he had to pay for his father's sins, but here he was anyways, getting ready to coach the clumsy, navigationally challenged girl once more. His stupid old man told him he couldn't get out of these Sunday obligations until Sakuno's tennis got better. Just when he was about to argue, Nanjiroh promised, 

_'If you can improve her tennis, I'll play you a serious game.'_

It would be just like his no good father to coerce him like that. Ryoma was no fool and could see the lure for what it was, but the promise of a serious game was too good to pass up. Granted, he'd have to perform a miracle to transform the coach's granddaughter, but since when did he run away from a challenge?

And it wasn't like he held anything against her anyway. She was an eager student, and though a tad on the klutzy side, he supposed she was alright. Maybe her hair was too long and her hips too wobbly, but he could have been stuck with worse.

The cat-eyed boy yawned as he sat down to tug on his sneakers. With a glance at the clock, he strolled out the door. He normally didn't care if he was prompt or tardy, but last time he had kept her waiting. His senpai-tachi had somehow found out and scolded him about it. Ryoma quickened his pace just a notch. If it would stop the nagging, then the slight effort would be worth it.

* * *

She was late. 

He tapped his foot in impatience. He had jogged the last few blocks to get there on time, and the dratted girl was late. Ryoma frowned in displeasure. Five minutes, he told himself. He was only going to wait five minutes, and if she wasn't here by then, too bad.

* * *

Sakuno bit her lip as she navigated through the park. Distracted by a talkative passenger, she had stepped off at the wrong bus stop, and had to enter the park through the far entrance. 

Now she was lost. Reddish brown eyes scanned the area, searching for a cap-adorned boy. There wasn't another person in sight.

"Mou," Sakuno muttered, looking everywhere. Why did this park have to have so many trees?

* * *

She was ten minutes late now. 

Ryoma's face deadpanned. He stuck his hands in his pockets, the epitome of grumpy male.

Five more minutes he told himself. He'd only wait five more minutes.

* * *

Sakuno's face brightened when she rounded the path and saw him. With a trot, she came forward. 

"I'm sorry, Ryoma-kun, I was—"

"Twenty laps," he interrupted without so much as a blink of an eye. He had waited twenty minutes and he was going to punish her accordingly. One lap for every minute she kept him waiting. That would teach her to waste his time.

"Twenty laps?"

Twenty laps were how much the regulars were required to run everyday. But Sakuno was not a regular. Moreover, half of the boy's tennis team still had difficulty completing that many laps, especially the freshmen. Sakuno could understand that this was Ryoma's way of punishing her, but twenty was out and out sadistic.

Her mouth parted in dismay. She knew he had valid cause to be stern with her, but he was being a total ogre ordering twenty laps.

"Twenty's too much, Ryoma-kun…"

"You're slacking off, Ryuzaki. Now, hit it." Ryoma emphasized his demand by jerking his thumb over his shoulder in a no-nonsense gesture. If he was going to be bothered out of bed every Sunday morning to teach the girl, she had better be punctual.

Besides, running laps improved one's stamina, conditioned the muscles, and made one more aware of body movement. One had to coordinate one's limbs to run smoothly.

Boy, did she need help in that department – coordination. Why the girl sucked so bad at it boggled him. She was fine against the wall (when she wasn't smacking him upside the head with an errant tennis ball, Ryoma was still a little bitter about that), but when he was feeding her balls across the net, she was absolutely appalling. Her form, which was commendable, crumbled to pieces on the court. Her hips wobbled, her swing stiffened, and she stumbled all over the place.

Running would help. And the faster she'd improve in tennis, the sooner he'd have his Sundays to himself again. Ryoma smiled at the pleasant thought.

Meanwhile, he'd make the most out of his weekly suffering by nursing a cool can of Ponta. Drinking the cola while supervising the girl was always the highlight of their practice sessions for him. Ryoma was already fingering the coins tucked away in his pockets when she clasped her hands together in a pretty plea.

"Can I do ten instead?" Her smile was blinding.

Ryoma stood there for a second, just staring at her. This wasn't negotiable. She had to be kidding.

Another second passed. She wasn't.

Ryoma tried to remain unfazed. His stoic façade remained in place, but his stance gave in. Damnit, this was unfair. Captain would've issued thirty laps to any peon who dared to disagree. But no, this was Wobbly Hips. And damn him, but she was really cute, especially when she begged like that.

He turned his head away so she wouldn't see how much the wretched words cost him. "Fine. Ten laps then." He couldn't believe he actually relented.

But it wasn't over. She was begging again, requesting meekly in that soft voice of hers.

"Um… W-would you run with me?" Her eyes were downcast, the tips of her index fingers tapping together in a display of nervous energy. "I-it's a little embarrassing by myself so…"

Ryoma's expression blanked. It was a good thing she wasn't looking. Great. Now she wanted _him_ to run laps too. With an inaudible sigh, Ryoma took off, carelessly tossing his reply over his shoulder.

"Fine. C'mon." With his luck, she'd get lost or something. At least this way he could keep an eye on her. Ryoma frowned in mild irritation. The Ponta would have to wait, he supposed.

The patter of footsteps caught up with him even though he had a head start, not that catching up was difficult; Ryoma's pace was moderate and easy. He only raced through a twenty-lap marathon when the threat of Inui juice was on the line.

Hmm, maybe threatening Wobbly Hips with Inui juice would improve her tennis…

* * *

Sakuno beamed to herself, reveling in the moment. Although his face was set in a stern expression, he was being nice, running with her like this. It warmed her heart knowing that he did it for her. Sakuno's eyes closed for a moment as she smiled, soft and content. 

_Ryoma-kun, I'm glad I get to do this with you._

Running along side him, the caress of the sun's rays on her skin, the refreshing cool breeze in her hair, pumped up by pleasant thoughts of spending time with the boy she admired, Sakuno didn't see the uneven segment of concrete that jutted out and snagged her toe.

"Uwaaah!"

* * *

It happened so quickly. One second, she was running beside him, the next, she was swan diving chin first into the sidewalk. The rush of air that followed her descending passage blew up the back of her skirt. It was only a brief glimpse, but it was enough. 

_Pink._

Wobbly Hip's panties were pink. Ryoma's eyes widened from the surprise. He slowed his momentum and jogged back.

"You ok?" Ryoma asked, fighting the blush that was threatening to emerge. He crouched down to extend his hand. She nodded and scooted on all fours to get up. Due to the combination of her position and his height advantage, Ryoma made another discovery when the open collar of her polo dipped. Wobbly Hips wasn't wearing a bra.

Oh god, those were pink too.

Ryoma stood frozen, trying his damnedest to quell the mad rush of blood to his face as she got up and dusted herself off.

_Pink._

Large, innocent eyes peered up at him. Her head tilted to the side. Soft, glossy lips voiced his name. "Ryoma-kun?"

_Pink._

Was everything about her that color? Ryoma whipped around and started jogging.

"Practice resumes. Look where you're going next time," Ryoma bit out in his gruffest voice as he lost the fight for composure. _Whoosh._ Fiery crimson exploded over his cheeks.

_Pink._

If she saw his face, she'd know something was up. He couldn't let that happen. Ryoma bolted, increasing the distance between them to give him time to recompose himself. He gritted his teeth. He had to stop thinking of that color. Maybe running would purge the thought from his system. There was nothing better than practice to keep his mind focused.

Flowers along the path jumped out at him.

_Pink._

Flyers stapled to a post zoomed into his mind's eye.

_Pink._

A mother pushed her baby girl in a stroller.

_Pink._

He was surrounded. The color was everywhere. His cheeks were still hot. The blush wasn't dissipating. _Don't think about it._ Ryoma clenched his eyes shut and ran harder.His strides lengthened, covering more ground. The scenery flashed by on either side of him, unseen, unappreciated.

"Ryoma-kun, watch out!"

He raised his head at her warning only to collide face first into a sakura. The thin, graceful tree limbs shook from the harsh velocity of the impact and released their blossoms. Clutching his throbbing, bloody nose, cat shaped eyes glazed over in horror as the shower of pale pink petals drifted around him.

Sitting on the hard, knotty roots, Ryoma gingerly lifted his fingers away. As the bright red smear competed with his face for color intensity, one surly thought ran through his mind.

Pink was evil.

**FIN**


End file.
